Bar Thoughts
by Fudgyokra
Summary: During dinner at Wing Kingdom one evening, Mordecai gets drunk and tells a long overdue secret. Morby.


**Bar Thoughts**

**A/N: **I don't know how this turned out to be six pages long, because when I started I'd only intended it to be the little section at Wing Kingdom… Oops. Also, I've racked up two tallies so far for writing drunken Mordecai. This one is happier than the last one, though.

* * *

Somewhere in the course of Saturday night dinner at Wing Kingdom, amidst friends, table-round beers, and dripping hot wings, six-sevenths of Mr. Maellard's park maintenance crew got drunk. This wasn't typically a big deal since they were all already acquainted with each other's buzzed habits. What they didn't know, however, is that one beer too many made one of them in particular a bit of a secret-spiller.

Mordecai had just chugged his fifth beer of the night when he suddenly became an open book. Past the group's tittering over small comments like, "I don't even really like beer that much," he announced to them that he had a big secret he'd grown tired of keeping.

"I've never told anyone this," he started dramatically. "Well, I told…I told my mom, but not you guys." He stretched his arms across the table to gesture. His wrists touched the glass-covered wood, and his palms were opened toward Skips and Benson, who sat opposite him and Fives. "I…am into dudes."

The table erupted into noisy cheers that garnered the brief attention of some nearby guests. Benson put an end to their hooting with a curious, "Wow, how long have you known?"

There was a pause where Mordecai tried to count on his fingers, but he lost track in his confusion and simply said, "I was, like, twenty."

Rigby, from where he sat beside Muscle Man in the middle section of their square booth, practically leapt out of his seat at that. "Dude, you were _twenty _before you figured that out?"

"Yeah…yep." Mordecai nodded in addition to his verbal affirmations.

"That's not so bad in the grand scheme of things," Skips said.

Rigby laughed once. "Yeah it is. Dude,"—he directed this last part at Mordecai—"you're so dense that you oughta _thank _whoever made you realize that."

Mordecai's brows knit together. For a few seconds, he looked like he was trying hard to calculate something. "Okay…" he began slowly. "Thanks."

The group quieted. Rigby's eyes, clouded with drunken stupor, fought to appear serious. "Whaddya mean, man?"

"Oh, boy," Skips mumbled.

Benson erupted into airy chuckles, though Mordecai seemed unfazed by them. "Yeah," the latter said, nodding again. "You're my first, like…I dunno, gay crisis."

The brunette stared at his friend for an uncomfortable amount of time before he cracked a smile and replied, "You're welcome."

For some reason, the two of them seemed to find this hilarious. They snickered their way through a solid ten seconds before Muscle Man and Fives cut in with a declaration of their desire to "get gone," as the former put it. In agreement, they all slowly pried themselves from the booth they'd been occupying for close to two hours and left the building in a curious array of slurred chatter. Mordecai and Rigby, who brought up the rear, collapsed onto the cold metal of the lattice bench out front with twin sighs of contentment.

Pops, their designated driver of the night, pulled up to the curb just in time to meet them. Once the remaining four piled into his car, Skips rolled down the passenger window so that the elder man could wave at Mordecai and Rigby. "I hope you had a splendid evening!" he called.

"We did!" Mordecai called back. "Thanks!"

Skips hung his right arm out the window and said something to Pops, whose exclamation of "Oh!" was the last thing the younger employees heard before the car sped away.

"We need t' get a car, dude," Mordecai griped once the others were out of sight. "I hate taking the bus."

Rigby drawled an impassioned "I _knowww_," in response.

The taller of them draped his arms over the top of the bench and tilted his head back. "Tonight was totally fun, though."

Rigby looked up at him. It took a moment for Mordecai to notice his friend's stare and look back at him. Under the yellow light of the street lamp, the stud perched above his raised eyebrow looked like a tiny gold LED. Mordecai pointed this out with a goofy smile, to which Rigby replied, "Why're you puttin' your arm around me?"

The arm immediately began to move, but was halted by Rigby's clarification: "I don't mind. I was just askin' why you were."

"Dude… Were you even awake in there?"

"…Oh."

"Uh, yeah."

Rigby bit his lip. "I thought you were joking."

Mordecai tensed. "Oh, really?" His laugh was blatantly forced, and what sounded horrifically fake sober sounded even worse drunk. "I, um…was."

The brunette regarded him with a sideways look. "Sure you were."

It must have been the alcohol, but Mordecai didn't see any reason to lie. "Okay, so I wasn't." He laughed through his nose. "But it's no big deal. I mean, that was years ago."

"Oh," Rigby said again.

Mordecai felt a pang of regret for having said anything at all. The beginnings of a headache thumped at his temples. "You okay?"

"I'm great, dude. Just tired."

"Yeah, haha… Me too."

The duo rested on the bench in silence until the purplish haze of the bus's headlights illuminated the dark road ahead of them. They climbed on, pressed their coins into the slot, and took their seats. Aside from some light conversation in the back, the bus was quiet. They'd barely begun moving before Mordecai had his earbuds in place and had maneuvered into a comfortable slouch.

Rigby, meanwhile, was stuck in the outer seat and therefore had no wall to lean against. Resigned to his nap-less fate, he simply watched with bleary eyes as the bus left Wing Kingdom behind. Though he'd intended to put up a valiant fight to stay awake, the hushed sound of tires on asphalt was a catalyst for his drooping eyelids. He decided to chance laying his head on Mordecai's shoulder; the surprise contact jolted the other but he didn't complain, so Rigby didn't move. In fact, he was rather amicable about it, even offering him an earbud, which he accepted before closing his eyes.

Despite the rickety motion of their chosen public transit, Rigby fell asleep to Mordecai's lame 80s music and the comforting support of his shoulder, even if he was only able to rest for twenty minutes before he was awoken when the bus reached the park. He grudgingly got out and staggered a few steps before catching himself on Mordecai's sleeve.

The taller man grinned. "You need help?"

Before Rigby could answer, he felt the pressure of Mordecai's arm hooking under his own and hoisting him up. Once he was straightened out, his friend's arm lowered to his waist instead and remained.

Both of them jumped when the bus driver yelled out the door, "Is he okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah! Thanks!" As this response was given, Rigby groaned to the negative.

"You'll be fine," Mordecai said after the bus left. "Want me to carry you?"

It was a tempting offer, but Rigby declined. "Nah, dude. 'Sides, you're just as drunk as I am."

Mordecai shook his head. "I am definitely not as drunk as you are."

"What're you talking about? We drank the same amount!"

"Dude…" Mordecai smirked. "I'm bigger. I'd need more alcohol to get as hammered as you."

Rigby made a frustrated sound and wiped a hand down his face. The other man took this space of speechlessness to say, "C'mon, I'm gonna carry you."

"Why, do you _want _to?" The brunette crossed his arms.

"I kinda do."

"Less drunk" didn't make much of a difference, Rigby decided, because Mordecai was still being strangely forward. "I mean, sure, if you want," he said after a moment of deliberation. It wasn't like he was thrilled about walking, anyway.

Once Mordecai had crouched down, Rigby climbed onto his back and looped his arms around his neck. Mordecai secured his hands beneath Rigby's thighs, lifted him up a little higher, and then rose again. "Comfy?" he asked.

Rigby hummed a yes.

They began their trek to the house with Rigby's query of, "Do you think you'll remember any of this later?"

"Unfortunately I'm not a forgetful drunk, Rigby." Mordecai huffed, at which Rigby rolled his eyes.

"Okay, chill. I was just wondering."

"Why do you ask?"

"Uhh… Well, you said some…stuff…today."

"Stuff?"

"You know what I mean."

The taller of them pursed his lips for a second, then said, "Yeah…there's no chance you could pretend that never happened?"

Rigby felt a weird jolt in his chest. "Why?"

"The last thing I want is to make things awkward between us, you know?"

"Why would things be awkward?"

Mordecai sighed in frustration. "Because I'm an idiot and I keep admitting to you in some way or another that I'm a hopeless sack who's got a thing for his best friend."

Rigby wasn't sure what emotion to ascribe to the thrill that chased through his bloodstream, but he didn't have time to think too hard about it before he decided to open his mouth again. "That's not bad though, right? I mean, I'd totally date you if you asked."

At that, Mordecai stopped in his tracks and Rigby realized the gravity of what he'd just admitted. He nervously tacked on a quiet, "You know, hypothetically."

They lapsed back into silence just long enough for Mordecai to say, "All right. You maybe wanna…go out sometime this week?"

Rigby's heartbeat was suddenly in his throat. Despite this, a grin bloomed on his face. "Seriously?"

"Totally."

"Jeez, you _are _drunk."

"I'm coherent!"

"Sure, man."

"Is that a yes?"

The shorter man tried to play it off with a scoff when he answered, "I guess."

"Asshole," Mordecai joked.

"Hey, I said yes!" They both burst into laughter in the seconds following this statement. By the time they reached the house, this had become a sequence of yawns and exhausted sighs.

"Okay, lemme down," Rigby said, swinging his legs.

"You're such a child." Mordecai lowered Rigby back onto the ground and smiled when he stumbled once more. "Man, learn to use your legs." He patted his friend on the back and leaned against the front door.

"What're you waiting for?" Rigby whined. "Go inside already, jerk."

Mordecai didn't say anything. He looked like he was disoriented enough to pass out at any second, but something kept him standing before the door, staring thoughtfully at his best friend. Rigby drew his jacket closer around himself and mumbled something about it being too cold outside to avoid a weird silence.

Eventually, to his relief, Mordecai sleepily asked, "Hey, dude?"

"What?"

Another beat of wordlessness occurred. Rigby didn't know what to make of it until his friend leaned forward, then pulled him by the hand into a hug. "Wo_ahhh_, someone gets huggy when they're drunk, huh?"

"Actually I was gonna kiss you, but I chickened out."

Rigby gave him an incredulous look. "Did you just pull a Mordecai on me?"

"Shut up."

"On _me._ Wow."

"Shut up!"

"You're such a wuss." Rigby pushed himself up onto his tiptoes and was poised to meet the other halfway, but it appeared they'd reached a stalemate of nervousness.

Mordecai bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Rigby…"

"Stop talking right now."

"You just…"

"I just pulled a you so you can't say anything."

It was late and they were tired and drunk, so Mordecai cut his friend some slack. "Okay, you're not wrong, I guess." He turned around and unlocked the front door. "Let's go to bed, dude."

The two of them ascended the stairs in what might've been silence if they'd been aware enough to mitigate their heavy footfalls. A pair of dingy, scribbled-on converse and a pair of blue dollar store flip-flops were kicked off the moment they reached the bedroom, left haphazardly in the center of the room by their owners, who had crashed into their respective beds with almost as much noise as they'd made getting there. Between warbled goodnights and an immediate transition into Rigby's snoring, silence was a thing of the past, anyway.

Mordecai felt a sense of long overdue peace and satisfaction flowering in his chest. The secret was out with a few other extraneous bar thoughts and that was that. Everything was simple, just like he liked it.


End file.
